Something flew straight to the sky, like a beam of light and The sky opened once more.
A sound like the memory of creation itself tore through the air — a note of unbearable purity that made the world tremble.
From the shattered clouds, a figure descended — wreathed in gold and white flame, six wings unfurled like blades of dawn.
Michael, the Archangel of Radiance, the first spear of the Almighty.
His presence broke the storm apart. As he floated down.
Where his feet touched ground, frost melted, shadows fled, and the air sang.
The battlefield — that endless expanse of ruin — bent beneath the weight of his arrival.
The Fallens, bloodied and broken, froze mid-breath.
Every memory of exile, every moment of despair, cracked and flared with hope.
"So this is....Michael…" Lara whispered, her voice in awe.
He looked upon them — not as the commander of Heaven, nor as their judge, but as one who had lost and found them again.
And for a heartbeat, his eyes softened.
